The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1887-07-02
fain trusting that his boy had reached

But now came greater peril; for one
can hardly walk in the woods without
swapping twigs and disturbing leaves.
At the foot of the slope, six or eight rods
below, ran a wide, shallow brook, and if
he could reach that in safety the rest of
the trip would be less difficult. Step by
step he felt the way with his naked feet,
yet not without several noises that caused
the Indians to grunt, significantly, and
the father to tremble for the consequences.
Once there came such sound from the
direction of the brook that two or three
savages sprang to their guns, but Mr.
Page made noise like the snort of a
frightened deer, drawing their attention
to different course and cause, and soon
their suspicious subsidized.
At length Jimmy stepped into the cool
stream, and felt sure of the balance of
his task. Still he proceeded with the
greatest caution until he knew he was
beyond the hearing Of the savages, when
he fed like the wind to warn the settle
ment.
Arriving at home, it took but moment
to arouse the family and start them for
the blockhouse, or fort. Then he sped
on to other cabins and gave the alarm,
until, in little longer time than it takes
to tell it, the whole settlement was warned
and focking into the fort. Men came
armed and stern for the fight, women with
their tender babes and children, frowsy-
headed and half clothed as they had
tumbled out of their trundle- beds. Such
alarms and night scenes on the borders
are among the most thrilling chapters in
American history.
The plan of defense adopted by the
settlers on this occasion was an ambus-
cade. All the women and children were
committed to the blockhouse under the
care of half dozen of the elderly men,
while the sble-bodied fighters concealed
themselves in the log house of Mr.. Page,
the first likely to be attacked. Long be-
fore daybreak this plan was ready for
execution, the little log fort being securely
closed, the defenseless within it, and some
twenty trusty guns waiting in the cabin
to give the red men welcome.
But we must return to the hunter in
the tree and the unsuspecting foe by the
derrick.
After Jimmy left, Mr.. Page laid his
plans to descend as soon as the Indians
started and, following in their rear, take
hand in the fight which he expected to
occur. Slowly the night passed, the
moonlight growing fainter until he could
no longer see the savages. At length,
when morning was evidently near, he
heard them take up the line of march
their stealthy tread quickly passing away
toward the settlement. It was but an
instanps work for him to Chamber down
and follow them, taking, however, some
what different route, SO as not to fall into
their hands if any OF them should linger
on the way.
When he came to the clearing, quarter
OF mile from his own house, he hid
himself and waited for circumstances to
develop his part in the fray. He had not
long to wait. just as it became light
enough to sight gun, a musket shot and
then sew eral together broke on the silence,
but with such smothered sound that his
practiced ear knew that they we're fred
from within house, and, hence, were
the guns of the white men. At the same
instant several war-whoops burst on the
air, but in tone indicating surprise and
alarm.
These sounds explained the ambuscRde
to Mr.. Page, and knowing the Indian
habit of retreating singly and not in
company from defeat, he kept sharp
watch from his hiding place and, in few
moments, saw warrior running toward
the woods to escape. With unerring aim
he sent bullet after the fugitive. Hardly
had he reloaded when another similar
target appeared, and met the same fate.
Other shots were heard in the direction
of the house, and soon third savage,
hurrying toward the forest, passed within
range OF our hunters rifle and was stop
ped forever.
At length general silence prevailed,
and Mr.. Page, leaving his hiding-place,
crept slyly toward the scene of the prin-
cipal fight. Ere long he met some of the
neighbors, and together they continued
to search for the savages. But it was
found that they bad fed from the clear
ing, all except the slain, eleven in num-
Der. Not a white person was injured.
In the afternoon burial trench was
dug on a little knoll on the Page farm,
and the bodies of the red men solemniy
laid therein; then log fence was built
about it, and the little inclosure, still
preserved, is known to this day as "The
Indian graveyard.
Jimmy died in the autumn of 1870, a
venerable, white-haired patriarch, and at
his own request was buried in the same
inclosure.